I close my eyes and breathe him in, barely a movement, and he understands. His hands, strong and sure, begin to undress me, fingers brushing against my skin with a gentleness that contrasts the urgency in his eyes. Each touch is like a spark, reigniting something deep within, despite the marks of his whip that crisscross my back.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, kissing my bruises with a tenderness that breaks my heart. “Let me help you heal.”
He lays me down, not on the cold floor but on the softness of his cloak, a makeshift bed that says more about his care than words could. His body, hard and warm, covers mine, his erection pressing against my thigh, sending a rush of warmth up my leg.
He enters me with a deliberate slowness, each inch a seduction, his gaze intense, watching pleasure flicker across my face. His thrust, deep and commanding, ignites a fire within, stretching me, filling me, until every thrust is a silent scream at the edge of ecstasy and pain.
I gasp, my back arching slightly, the movement pulling at the fresh scabs, yet the pleasure of his fullness inside me blurs the lines. "Kael," I moan, my voice heavy with longing.
He moves with a rhythm that's both slow and intense, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in, each stroke designed to draw out every sensation. His hands are everywhere, one hand cupping my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple, the other holding my hip, guiding my movements to meet his.
"Look at me," he murmurs, his voice a husky command, and when our eyes meet, there's this connection, this raw, unfiltered emotion passing between us.
“No one will ever replace you in my heart, do you understand?” Tears sting my eyes as his intense gaze strips away my defenses, and I nod silently, overcome with desire—the desire to believe that he’s still mine, the desire to feel him burst inside me.
His thrusts become more urgent, each one hitting harder, drawing out moans from deep within me that echo in the quiet of the dungeon.
The pace quickens, but it's still deliberate, each movement a display of his control. He leans down and kisses me, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hips, exploring, claiming, marking me again and again.
My hands clutch at his back, nails digging in, not to hurt but to hold on, to feel him closer. "More," I breathe out, and he complies, each thrust now a blend of roughness and care, his body speaking to mine in a language only we understand.
The climax builds slowly, a crescendo of sensation that starts deep within and spreads outward. His hand moves between us, fingers finding that sensitive spot between my folds, circling, pressing, in time with his thrusts. The combination is too much, and I come undone, my body tightening around him, my cries muffled against his shoulder.
Kael follows, letting out a long moan, “Oh god, yes,” his body stiffening, his release a warm flood inside me. He stays inside me for a moment, our breaths slowing, his forehead resting against mine.
In the hazy afterglow, we lie tangled together in the dim light, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my skin, as if trying to memorize every curve one final time.
"I'll always protect you," he whispers into my hair, his voice thick with emotion. "No matter what happens."
I turn in his arms, meeting his steel-grey eyes, and finally ask the question that’s been haunting me. "Did you tell Sabrina?" I breathe. "The sacred secret?"
Kael shakes his head, his expression grave. "Never. That stays between us." His hand cups my face. "Promise me you'll never reveal it. To anyone."
"I promise," I whisper back, sealing the vow with my heart even as it breaks.
The tenderness of this moment makes what's to come hurt even more—he'll soon be Sabrina’s mate, and this will be nothing but a bittersweet memory.
"Alpha Kael." A guard's voice echoes down the corridor. "It's time."
Kael squeezes my hand one last time before rising to his feet.
Then he's gone, leaving nothing for me to hold onto but his promises and the cold chains that remind me of what I've become—a slave.
Kael's scent lingers on my skin as I curl up in my chains, clinging to the faint hope in his words. Bitterness coats my tongue—being his advisor while Sabrina rules as Luna will be its own kind of torture. But I have to stay close to him, have to keep that ember of love alive. It's the only way to protect our child.
Then it hits me.
The pain drops me to my knees, a thousand times worse than the lash of Kael's whip. Every nerve in my body screams as I feel it—the moment Kael claims Sabrina as his Luna. The mating ritual burns through what's left of my bond with him, searing it away until there's nothing but ash. A howl of pure agony tears from my throat as I feel him enter her, marking her as his chosen mate.
I cradle my stomach, whimpering in delirium as darkness swallows me.
THE NEXT MORNING
"Talia, wake up!"
The familiar voice cuts through my fog of misery. Morning light filters through the high dungeon window as I force my eyes open to find Ronan towering over me. My brother's face is a mask of careful neutrality as he drops a bundle at my feet.
Clean clothes, made of simple cotton—the familiar cut of a maid's uniform—along with bread and water. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he helps me sit up.
"Get ready," he says quietly.
"For what?" My voice is raw from screaming.
"The Second Convocation of the Claw—a meeting with the Alphas from all the rival packs. Kael wants you to attend."
Hope flutters weakly in my chest. "As his advisor?" I ask, eyeing the maid's dress with growing confusion.
Ronan's scoff cuts like a knife. "No," he says. "As his servant."
I enter the Convocation Hall with my head bowed, painfully aware of the bruises that peek through my thin maid's dress, the whip marks that pull and sting with every movement. Each step sends fresh waves of shame through me—these wounds, inflicted by my mate's own hand, now on display for all to see.
My gaze drifts to where Sabrina stands beside Kael at the head table. Just a year ago, that was my place—Luna of Shadow Ridge, trusted advisor, the one who helped Kael craft his vision of uniting the packs.
Kael's eyes meet mine, filled with silent apology, but the moment Sabrina's perfectly manicured fingers dig into his arm, his expression hardens to steel.
"There's a stain on the floor," Sabrina's voice drips with venom. "On your hands and knees, maid. Scrub it clean before the Alphas arrive.”
I sink to the floor, wincing as the movement pulls at my healing wounds, and the painful memories flood back—this is how it all began, serving as Sabrina's maid before Kael chose me to be his mate. Before I dared to dream above my station.
"Doesn't she look natural this way?" Sabrina's voice carries across the hall. "Scrubbing at the feet of her Highers. Your grandmother would be so proud, wouldn't she, Talia?"
Rage boils in my blood, and I'm about to spit back a response when the great doors creak open. My heart stops as the rival Alphas file in, led by a figure that steels my breath away.
Lucian Blackwood—Alpha of Darkfang, the most powerful pack in the world—sweeps into the hall with the easy grace of an apex predator. His fierce green eyes lock onto mine, recognition flickering in their depths, followed by confusion as he takes in my fallen position on the floor—and the dark bruises that mar my skin.
Kael's growl is almost imperceptible, but I feel it vibrate through the air. The last time Lucian was here, he single-handedly destroyed Kael's plans for pack unification.
Kael hates Lucian.
I can sense his blood boiling in his veins at the memory of Lucian humiliating him last year.
"Don't worry," Sabrina whispers to Kael, her voice carrying to my sensitive ears. "I'll convince Lucian this time. Watch me work my magic."
Last year’s Convocation flashes through my mind—when I was Luna, when Kael asked me to sway Lucian to our side. I remember approaching him, our verbal dance as we circled each other with carefully chosen words. The way his green eyes lit up with interest, how his lips curved into that dangerous smile when I matched his wit. "You have a special fire in you, little wolf," he'd said, “I like it.”
But even my diplomatic prowess couldn't save Kael's deal in the end. I wonder if Sabrina's particular charms will prove more persuasive.
Sabrina rises with feline grace, sauntering toward Lucian. Her fingers trail along his arm as she welcomes him, taking his hand to guide him to the seat beside her and Kael. But Lucian shakes off her touch like it burns, striding directly to Kael instead.
His green eyes flick to me, then back to Kael. "Trading Lunas every year now, are we?" His voice drips with mockery. "How... fickle."
I see Kael's jaw tighten, but he maintains his composure. "I think you'll be impressed by Shadow Ridge's progress this year, Lucian. And our new proposal for pack unification."
Hours crawl by in endless deliberation. I move through the hall with practiced silence, serving drinks and platters of food. But I can't ignore the weight of Lucian's gaze following me each time I pass. While other Alphas lean forward, engrossed in Kael's presentations, Lucian seems distracted, his piercing green eyes finding me again and again.
Finally, Kael slams his hands on the table, his patience snapping. "Cast your vote, Lucian. Everyone else is ready to move forward with uniting the packs. What's your decision?"
Lucian leans back in his chair, the picture of casual authority. "And who, pray tell, will be Alpha of these united packs?"
"That will be determined by a vote at the next Convocation," Kael replies tightly.
"Very well." Lucian's lips curve into a dangerous smile. "I'll sign your deal. On one condition."
"What condition?"
Lucian's eyes find me again, and my blood runs cold. "I'd like to take a gift back to Darkfang." His smile widens. "Your maid."
A gasp escapes my lips before I can stop it. Sabrina's eyes narrow to venomous slits, and Kael—my fierce, proud Alpha—looks like he's been struck. His jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind.
The silence in the hall is deafening.
Kael's eyes meet mine, and in them I read everything unsaid.
“So Kael, what do you say?” Lucian extends his hand to Kael, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Do you accept my deal?”